


Gone Forth and Died

by Pearly_Pornography



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: M/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-15 07:43:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9225356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearly_Pornography/pseuds/Pearly_Pornography
Summary: It began quietly.





	

It began quietly. 

No words, no sound. Darkness enveloped his body and he fell quiet. Ah, 5th grade, with the easy mathematics and the easy sciences. He tented his fingers, propping his elbows on his desk. He loved those easy sciences. Now he was older, kicking the desk with his knees and scowling at his teacher. High school approached like a train. For once, he was quiet. There was nobody else, only miles and miles and miles of wandering eyes. All blue and brown and green and blank with the low light.

And they all looked at him, because he was the only thing of interest.

The floor broke and the sky crackled. He was clutching a head. (Whose? Whose?) It was Toki. No, it was Skwisgaar. It was everyone. It was no-one. Regardless of who it was, it was spurting blood onto his trembling hands. He didn't feel too great.

Mom.

Dad.

He felt sullen. For some reason. His palms were red, because he had done it. He was angry and scared and he didn't mean to. (I didn't mean it, I'm sorry.) But his fingers had still clasped around the neck of that no-one and torn it in half, with all the bones and muscles detaching like strings on a poorly-sewn shirt.

Everything was sad.

He sighed as the head turned to dust in his fingers. He was small again. He'd never gotten any older, after all.

His throat clenched and his body shuddered.

He flew up in bed, covered in sweat, clutching the sheets. His eyes were wild. His whole body was hot. Immediately he sprung to his feet, feeling a tight knot tying itself in his guts as he sprinted to the bathroom, whining with his hand on his stomach. His hair got into the toilet water as he hunched over, spewing goop, hot and thick out of his throat. His head hung over into the bowl, brow damp, hands shaking.

"Nate'n?"

He looked up, before leaning back over to spit more bile into the water. "Eugh, Nate'n, yer hair's gettin' in dere." A small set of hands pulled his hair back over his thick shoulders, scraping the crap out of the ends as he did. "You feelin' alright? Been drinkin'?" A pause. "Had dat dream again?"

"Different one this time."

"Oh, jeez." The hands met his back, rubbing in small circles. "You feelin' up for movin'?"

"I don't know."

"Alright, alright."

All was quiet for a bit. "Hey Nate'n."

"What?"

"What'd you see?"

"I think I killed someone. Someone... important."

"Aw, babe." He reclined into the hand on his back, feeling another set of fingers twisting in his hair. "It's alright. It ain't real. Can you breathe?"

"Uh-huh."

"Alright, dat's good." 

"...It could be really bad."

"Everything will be fine."

"You say that, but..." He sighed. There were so many places where he could just fucking go wrong. 

"I know. 's hard to believe."

"...I just wanna go to bed."

"Alright, big guy."

Things weren't ever gonna get much better. He was convinced.


End file.
